


All Things Considered

by Demytasse



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bickering, Birthday Party, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friendship, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Rivalry, Sexual Humor, possible smut only my last chap isn't written so...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demytasse/pseuds/Demytasse
Summary: After one interaction, Shizuo considered himself unlucky and desperately tried to replace that luck with anything that he could, but suddenly there wasso muchto consider. Vague swirls of mixed feelings, unnecessary connections to daily happenstances, nebulous definitions to what each sporadic meeting meant. He became obsessed with considering the root of their relationship, buried deep in fertile soil, in support of a surfaced weed.---What happens when Shizuo uses Celty's party for Shinra as an excuse to invite whom he supposedly hates, while Izaya creates his own fun from the situation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a simple response to a question from a shipping meme on Tumblr, one that wasn't a drabble prompt, but got out of hand after I delayed finishing it as a simple answer...a drabble...a fuckin' one shot... 
> 
> Without further ado...proof that when presented with an easy question, I ponder all the ways to answer but simply; a chapter fic of the best kind! UNINTENTIONAL!

Shizuo was really only on pleasant terms with a dismal few. It was something that city dwellers often assumed upon first glance, as was it common knowledge among seasoned and nubile members of Dollars, thanks to a sticky-post of rumours atop the forums.

The near-thirty roughian had grown to appreciate his rather lone wolf lifestyle and regarded it as a blessing in disguise, the silver lining of his unfortunate nature. With little to no social obligations he was allowed his idyllic life of peace and simplicity. At least that's what he believed would come of his future, while his present awkwardly flirted with the dream.

Really though, Shizuo wasn’t entirely without people that weren’t an aggravation to him, more that the list was stacked fairly short. Even shorter were those he interacted with on a regular basis; and those few all fell within a web of eccentric friends and odd acquaintances, all mutually connected whilst baffling that they all belonged to the same group.

In short, Shizuo didn’t have more than two that were specific to him, and parents hardly counted… So that totaled to a underwhelming zero.

Hence, it came without a shock that all those friends of his were already invited to a party of an annual occurrence. Asocial event that was set to start in a matter of minutes, rather it was minutes grouped together in batches of sixty, as if anyone ever counted time in minutes unless it fell under an hour. Shizuo wasn’t even happy to constantly calculate that total, but his anxiety kept him to a countdown that added necessary pressure for a deadline that quickly approached. That and his current fixation wouldn’t allow him to consider how unconventional and inconvenient the method of telling time was.

As it were, Shizuo had started a war with his phone, in a continual raid of his laughable list of friends in order to find someone, anyone, that he could add to an already abundant and hilariously dysfunctional lot of partygoers. The task was near impossible and went alongside the party coordinator’s insistence not to, Celty being too considerate of Shizuo and his easily triggered bullheadedness.

In opposition, Shizuo felt it was his duty to go against her insistence with said bullheaded persistence; he too was overly considerate of his friend’s well being, which had him jump into chivalrous action once Celty mentioned she felt she’d already failed as a decent host.

They were a nervous pair, those two, that danced around their will to do right for the other, quite similar to a younger pair of individuals still donned in their Raira blues. Though the connection to Mikado and Anri would surely upset a certain obsessive doctor who’d appreciate any comparison other than a duo whose hidden romantic feelings for each other weren’t hidden at all.

But that was hardly a topic that Shizuo would ever humour, and certainly not presently as another sixty-six minutes had ticked by with only failure to speak of. He’d already been drawing from a dried well, but even looking beyond those of his friends he couldn’t even muster one that he _didn’t_ consider a friend.

_...Fuckin’ hell..._

Of course that was a lie. There was a specific someone that he wouldn’t classify as a friend, yet he knew quite well...

_...it better not come down to..._

…a shared contact between the bodyguard and courier alike.

However their perception of the shared contact differed. Celty had long blacklisted the individual from her thoughts unless otherwise prompted, while Shizuo…

Maybe it was a bit more complicated than succinct, but essentially it meant that Celty hadn't even considered to invite whom Shizuo had.

And he most certainly _had_ considered them.

A lot.

Too much.

 _Way_ too much.

In fact, the subject of Shizuo’s toil wasn't exclusive to the moment nor event, but a moment from a week back and at least several times since.

_No…wait..._

It went back a month...rather a year. At least.

_...err..._

Really, it all traced back to their introduction. It was prompt and came uninvited, but Shizuo inexplicably fell into a pattern of constantly considering _something_ of the parasite, to which he always forced the blame on the other, never himself.

After one interaction, Shizuo considered himself unlucky and desperately tried to replace that luck with anything that he could, but suddenly there was _so much_ to consider. Vague swirls of mixed feelings, unnecessary connections to daily happenstances, nebulous definitions to what each sporadic meeting meant. He became obsessed with considering the root of their relationship, buried deep in fertile soil, in support of a surfaced weed.

And it had annoyed the fuck out of Shizuo for about a decade; his trademark scowl a consistent expression, almost a tattoo by now.

 

To which that regrettable tattoo now reflected back onto Shizuo from his dark phone screen, seconds in lag of its boot up. It’d been the tenth time he’d flipped open the battle-scared device to begin yet another monotonous scroll through his modest catalog of contacts, frustrated and desperate, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Nothing changed.

While he was a fool for hoping that something new would appear, a completely hopeless fool he wasn’t. He knew that a miracle wouldn’t magic up a solution for him.

It was just like he knew that another nervous assault of his fridge, door nearly pulled off its hinges, would still offer a distinct lack of his favourite brand of pudding, while presented with the same disappointing milk that he'd almost drank dry and an assortment of leftovers he’d brought home from tried and true fast food joints.

He groaned, as did the unfortunate door that he slammed behind him. His phone, however, was brightly lit and chipper in mock of him as it spilled a glow over his glum features, especially so when he focused on the current spot of his opened address book.

Each and every time he dug back into his contacts, the highlight of a particular name would have his thumb hover over the send button. Each and every repetition his hesitation grew a fraction longer before the clack of folded plastic jostled him out of his trance.

_...that’s the last time._

The name in question shouldn't have been there at all, given that he hadn’t been the one to type in the aggravating string of kana, rather it was the work of a prankster.

_Tch..._

A simple distraction, swift hijack, and a glint of satisfaction placed his first phone of many into the hands of a devious brat who typed so adeptly that Shizuo hardly knew it ever left his pocket.

For six years, eight different models, twenty destroyed phones, and way too many data transfers later the parasitic name of his foe nestled itself comfortably between those of his friends, while it stood out just like the asshole to whom it belonged.

Whenever he went to dial his brother, he was reminded of the jerk. If he needed to reach his middle school chum turned boss, that bastard came to mind. Perchance he needed a patch from his unofficial doctor, the antagonist was probably already mid-attack of his thoughts, but would stab with more gusto once the sparse list was summoned.

Eventually he’d built up a tolerance for the pretentious name, but still decided to edit the title to one that better resembled the prick.

It was a nickname that was familiar to his vocal chords and could’ve mistakenly pegged Shizuo as a pet owner with a rather unfortunate pest problem, so much so that he needed the number of an exterminator at the ready.

In nature of the unflattering nickname, that flea popped its way back into Shizuo’s thoughts to become a nuisance that only increased as time went on, yet he considered the pest as his inevitable solution.

Again.

Yet, fucking, again.

He wasn't even looking at the name and it _still_ burned his cornea and unsurprisingly his temper.

_It’s his fault. It’s always his goddamn fault. Why is it always his fault!?_

A reel of his arm nearly had him pitch his phone to the floor, just before he caught himself.

Shizuo’s deliberation had grown ridiculously long while he repeatedly paced the circuit of his constrained living room, his hand cramped from a tight clutch of his phone for roughly 246 minutes. Really, he wasn’t counting.

All he needed was a definitive yes or no: should or shouldn't he invite Izaya?

What little patience he owned had finally wore down to his nerves and pleaded help from his instincts. In light of his predictable trend, his gut lurched him into action well before he could weigh how much of a mistake it could be; more apt, _would be._

He thumbed the send button and the phone obeyed.

_Shit… I didn't want to do that…Shit! SHIT!_

Juggled between his hands the ringing of his phone bounced in surround sound before he got control over it, nervous to put the speaker up to his ear.

It was an accident, a slip of his thumb, a hiccup in his concentration, it was anything but a conscious desire. That's what he would tell the others in response to why he did it. As if anyone within his circle of friends would believe him. For that matter, no one familiar with the ongoing of Ikebukuro would be fooled by the half-baked cover up.

Because why wouldn't he just stop the phone call from going through if he didn't mean for it to happen? It was just as easy to make a mad jab against the red button as it was to hit the green.

Clearly he let the ring continue just to keep his pride intact. _Not_ because he wanted to hear the voice that broadcasted from the district over from his own, and especially _not_ because he wanted to hear it in person again.

Though all mad consideration stopped the second the line connected and forced him to initiate conversation.

“Uh…”

He nearly ended it there, too dumbfounded to compose a sentence. It was a chuckle that inspired him to continue, and he'd be damned if he’d admit how kind it was to his ears.

“...it's Shinra's birthday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He’d long ago discovered that whenever Shizuo clipped his words it indicated an eagerness to skip past the dawdling that Izaya was particularly fond of outside from business. Though he often took advantage of that state, using it as a tactic for manipulation, his own words didn't settle well with him. Like it was advice from his subconscious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote out the rough draft while on a plane, and finished it while out of town... Be kind. Lol.
> 
> Seemlessly switches between POV. Basically it's all linear, so no backtracking unless it's a line or two.

Izaya was used to omitted greetings. That curt, cut to the chase, skip the pleasantries type mentality was sort of par for the informant course. Those of his regulars often tried to speed through their phone calls even without his persuasion, agitation ready upon their lips and parting words hardly considered. He too preferred the quick routine of sticking only to the essentials, just the same as many of his clients. So in ritual, he’d effortlessly slip into conversation as if it’d been going on for minutes, with his syrupy delivery that charmed some while it unsettled others.

The point was that Izaya expected people wouldn't expend their energy in order to be polite with him. Strictly business, there wasn't anything disheartening about that.

Even with that understanding, he found the blunt, monosyllabic intro to his phone call jarring, more so than he would have predicted. Blame it on the fact that the morning was only as old as his partially drank coffee or possibly that yesterday's morning never ended and rolled into the current. Either option produced the same outcome.

 

He tore his attention from scattered documents, blinking hard to disconnect his tunnel focus, while his mind replayed Shizuo's utterance for a second, third, and fourth appraisal; each time increased his awareness of how awkward the undertone of his 'uh’ was.

Izaya chuckled.

 _Jarring_ didn’t feel like the appropriate descriptor anymore. It was... _pleasant,_ of all things; _endearing_.

The jitter behind that solo word was curious and his intrigue outweighed the initial throb at his temple from the interruption of his productive flow. Now the tension was eased from his brow and his pulse an even pace.

_“...it's Shinra's birthday.”_

Izaya turned to face his computer monitors that a moment prior were in peripheral view. His long-distance vision was blurry from behind his reading glasses, which a blink of confusion had him realize that he needed to remove his frames in order to see clearly again.

A chaotic spill of internet tabs and various applications laid on the left screen while the right had transitioned over to a screensaver, stark white boldly presented the date against a dark background. Indeed, it _was_ the second of April.

_That's great. It's a day later than I thought._

He scrunched his features, a wince in response to the clock that indicated his deadline was closing in on him. Though, he was met with a conflict of interests as reaching what he now realized was an end-of-day work tragedy it also meant the convergence of loose ends for a plan he’d spun for his own benefit.

He reclined in his chair, “That it is.”

The line went silent with white noise.

_“Celty planned a surprise party.”_

Izaya’s attention was piqued. A hook he’d cast seemed to have caught.

“I highly doubt it's a surprise, Shizu-chan.”

_“Shinra doesn't seem to know.”_

“So he mentioned it to you?”

“ _No.”_

“How exactly do you know then?”

_“A hunch.”_

Izaya goaded Shizuo with an abnormally lighthearted laugh.

 _“What the hell are you laughing at?”_ hesitant, he seemed puzzled by the difference in sound.

“Your ignorance.”

 _“Ignorance?! You’re hinting that Celty’s sloppy?”_ Shizuo growled.

“Oh, Shizu-chan… That's not where my head was at.”

The faint groan Izaya received might have been an honest to goodness reaction to his pun, but that was probably too hopeful of a wish, in fact he’d bet good money that the joke was indeed missed.

And once again the call was left to dead air, only to be interrupted by a gruff clear of Shizuo's throat. Normally the gesture was faked, an abrupt way to gain attention, though in this case it seemed legitimate.

_Dry throat, wavering tone...Why Shizu-chan, are you nervous?_

_“You gonna finish your goddamn thought?”_

“Impatient as always, I see,” he yawned with instinct similar to Shizuo’s previous tick. “I figured by now you would’ve realized that Shinra has an annoying talent of picking up on things he shouldn't, but apparently that isn’t true.”

Izaya kicked his chair into a spin as it skated across the floor, an exaggerated sigh matched the length of time it took for the wheels to come to a halt.

_“What?”_

“Meaning he’s dug further into my shallow feelings than I ever have.”

The comment was more an accidental spill of his introspection than anything.

_“Hu?”_

_“What? Hu?_ ” He mocked. “Honestly, if you don't get it, don't bother me any further.”

Humoured as he was, Izaya still found Shizuo-esque obliviousness to be a minor grate.

_“God, Izaya, all I was sayin’ was that Shinra doesn't fuckin’ know what Celty's planning! Why are you rattlin’ off vague crap when it was just a simple comment!?”_

“Alright, Shizu-chan, we don't have to fake small talk, if you can call it that.” Izaya toned down. “It might not be something we’re meant for, after all.”

He’d long ago discovered that whenever Shizuo clipped his words it indicated an eagerness to skip past the dawdling that Izaya was particularly fond of outside from business. Though he often took advantage of that state, using it as a tactic for manipulation, his own words didn't settle well with him. Like it was advice from his subconscious.

_“Uh…”_

“Hm?”

 _“Look, just…”_ Shizuo stalled, _“...you can continue. With the small talk. I guess.”_

“That’s interesting. I was going to mention how amusing your blind faith in the surprise party was, but this reaction is so much more so.”

_“Don't test my patience.”_

“What were you just saying about small talk?”

_“IZAYA!!”_

“Fine, fine. Calm down, already. I just thought it’d be fun to make a bet.”

The proposed bet reminded him of his wily high school years, where Shizuo’s predictive destruction always managed to put the odds in Izaya’s favour. Though his past dealings seemed far too juvenile for the present.

_Ah, what a small fortune he won me, and now possibly a fortune in feelings?_

_“...a bet.”_

“Right!” He chirped. “How much do you wanna bet that the April fool himself will confirm my prediction tonight, that he indeed knows what his heedless girlfriend has planned.”

Then again his prior assessment may have been quite the opposite, perhaps now it was closer to simple adolescent fun and the past was much too devious for his age.

_“You mean headless.”_

“I meant what I said.”

A scoff agitated the speaker, _“You're not invited, flea. You know that.”_

“Care to formally invite me then, Shizu-chan? That _was_ the purpose of you calling me, correct?”

_“...this was a mistake.”_

His voice sounded faint enough to assume that the phone was in motion to be shut. Though the line still remained untouched; a muffled expletive, followed by sporadic counting, and dubious controlled breathing indicated his rival hadn’t given up.

“I do have work to tend to, you kno--”

 _“You’re gonna show up anyway so whatever…”_ Shizuo trailed off. _“...louse.”_

Izaya thoroughly enjoyed the cadence that their conversation had taken.

“Shizu-chan, I’m not one to just let myself in.”

It enacted proof of what a recent dissection of his catastrophic emotions had determined, eloquently presented as a straightforward diagnosis like he was a mental case. It was just like Izaya would expect and appreciate of the man who had played his therapist, but only in retrospect did it not bristle him.

 _“Seriously,”_ Shizuo huffed.

“Of course! I’d have to be invited.”

He gathered himself up in a cat stretch raising him all the way onto his tip toes. The memory of a candid discussion was dug up as he mutely scuffed the hardwood en route to the kitchen, his empty coffee mug was absentmindedly left in his wake.

Shinra had drawn comparisons to his own obsession, how the two friends hilariously wound up resembling each other more than it would immediately seem. Suddenly it clicked a switch that Izaya realized wouldn't shut off. Oddly, the revelation went without denial or repression, rather it kicked him into action.

_“Are you a fuckin’ vampire?”_

The increased volume separated the phone from Izaya's ear by an inch, not any more than necessary.

“Oh? Is the beast afraid of me biting him?”

Izaya toyed with his affection as if it were new.

 _“What!?_ ”

“Hmm, maybe all this time it wasn't that you wanted to see _me_ bleed out…”

He now manipulated for dual benefit between the mastermind himself and his target.

_“Izaya…”_

“...more that you wanted to entice me with the scent of your _own_ blood. Haha. How violently coy!”

Izaya recognized that his tone lacked the sarcasm that it was long conditioned to hold to which he didn't even intentionally fake the sincerity he’d replaced it with.

_“Goddammit, louse! Fuck you!”_

Depending on if Shizuo had put him on speaker phone or not, Izaya’s bubbled-up cackle might have echoed just the same as it did in his own apartment, just with a millisecond delay.

The prominent crack of an assumed plastic frame matched the annoyance of Shizuo's aggressive scoff. Patterned beeps alerted a dropped call.

“Aw, how cute.”

Izaya positioned his gaze upon his revived home screen, a prediction in mind.

“Five, four, three, two--” his head bopped from side to side in pace before he was cut off.

Three notifications arrived almost on top of one another.

“He’s more eager than I thought he'd be!”

_/You better show up/_

_/For Celty/_

_/Fuck you/_

A few responses were tossed about in consideration, but none seemed as much _fun_ as the first that had hit his imagination.

//Honestly, Shizu-chan//

//I’d much rather show up for you~!//

//♡♡♡//

Admittedly…

“...the hearts were too much.”

He shrugged as he slid his phone onto the countertop, steam rolled up off his fresh coffee to heat his face. The decoration on his new mug was partially framed by his hand, a scribbled drawing of what was supposed to be of a “ _genius_ _doctor”_ adorned the ceramic; he only used it for the sake of irony. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the picture, lost in thought.

It was only a minute or so past his poor excuse of a flirtatious text and he already felt it was regrettable. The silence possibly confirmed that theory.

He sighed as he broke away from the support of his cabinets. When he went to pick up his oddly quiet phone, it buzzed just as he wrapped fingers around it.

_/fine/_

“...or maybe they weren't.”

A jubilant tune started up in his head, a duet that played with his hum and the pep in his step as he made way for his desk. The informant lost the drag that his work had caused, now inspired to finish quickly to assure his attendance to said _surprise_ party.

The fact that everything of his unrevealed plan seemed to have lined up perfectly, albeit last minute, was probably all thanks to a perceptive fool, an oblivious wannabe human, a dim-witted monster, and some bit of controlled luck. An easy plan to see through, all things considered, but simple delights are just as satisfying in the end.

He smiled.

 

\---

 

“What am I supposed to think of this!?”

Shizuo shook the phone he demanded an answer from; he took was shaken as much as the inanimate object.

He continued his circular pace with more fervour, jabbing at keys, hunched inward.

Making a series of typos for such a simple message shouldn't have been a thing, but he still managed to throw in a few more, only half of them made him fractionally more agitated.

When he finished, he tossed the phone like it had burned him, and thumped off to his bedroom.

“Fine. Whatever.”

It wasn't until he caught a glance of himself in the mirror that he realized he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments, should you have any feedback or the like. ^^ ♡ 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, feedback, and kudos are always appreciated! ^^


End file.
